The making of 'Scroblene'

There is a certain amount of pressure being applied from The Honorable Member for Tuscany, to reveal the origin of the name ‘Scroblene’.

I have thought long and hard as to how to respond, and agree that some explanation is appropriate, even if yet another layer of my privacy is exposed to the world, along with all my NI records which are on one of those CDs lost in transit, and, the small matter of certain 'evidence' (pah!) now in the possession of Tunbridge Wells CID...

The name evolved from a bastardised version of similar names, which circulate inside a confused mind…

Rene Blosc was the owner of a small Pernod café on the Caen Canal. (not the one by Pegasus Bridge, but on the other side). Rene had a daughter, Giselle-Dubonnet, who looked after the customers, sometimes many times… When the old bridge was demolished in 1994, the contractors actually managed to disturb the foundations to such an extent that the whole building slid slowly into the water and was never seen again! Rene Blosc lives on under an ‘assumed’ name*, but Giselle-Dubonnet married a passing quantity surveyor, and now lives near Droitwich with eight children and a brindle spaniel called Collette.

S.R.Benecol was a part-time margerine futures broker, who spent most of his life being hounded by large corporations to give his name to a new type of health food. He surrendered eventually, taking temporarily, the name S.R.Beconase – (not to be sniffed at); but was again badgered by large firms until his untimely death in suspicious circumstances not unconnected with a toasting fork and a small nasal inhaler.

Senor Compadrione Ricardo O’Blene, was a monk from the fifteenth century, who is believed to have been the role model for a traditional rugby ditty, concerning a foray into the less salubrious parts of London town, and, it’s dire consequences. He is buried somewhere, but nobody actually knows where, and most people aren’t really that bothered…

We are getting there though aren’t we? Lilith was once so close, she was breathing down my neck; which is a uniquely pleasant experience from which I have not totally recovered…

*Eric